Taste Of Algorithm Jinkook/Kookjin story

Coincidence

He reached out then, not for Jin's face, but for his hand. Jin flinched back, but Jungkook was quicker. His fingers closed around Jin's wrist, his grip firm but not painful. He turned Jin's hand over, exposing the red, work-raw palm.

"This is neglect," Jungkook murmured, his thumb stroking over the inflamed skin. The touch was clinical, assessing, yet unbearably intimate. "This is a variable that requires correction."

Jin tried to pull away, but Jungkook held fast. "Let go of me."

"Why?" Jungkook's thumb continued its slow, maddening path over his palm. "You are in distress. The solution is care. The logic is sound."

"Your logic is a prison!"

"Is it?" Jungkook's other hand came up, not to restrain, but to gently grasp Jin's shoulder, holding him in place. He was so close now Jin could feel the heat of his body, could see the faint pulse at the base of his throat. "Or is it the only thing holding you together right now?"

His head dipped. Jin froze, every muscle locking, expecting a kiss, a demand, a final, devastating conquest.

It didn't come.

Instead, Jungkook's lips brushed against the raw, abraded skin of Jin's knuckles.

The touch was feather-light, astonishingly gentle. A whisper of warmth and softness against pain. It was not a kiss of passion, but one of benediction. Of ownership.

A violent, full-body shudder wracked Jin. A choked sound, half-protest, half-sob, escaped his lips. His knees buckled, but Jungkook's hold on his shoulder kept him upright.

Jungkook lingered for a moment, his lips pressed against the damaged skin, before straightening up. His eyes were black pools of intensity, holding Jin's captive.

"The solution is care," he repeated, his voice a low thrum that vibrated through Jin's very bones. He released Jin's hand, but the sensation of his lips remained, a brand far more intimate than the one on his temple.

He turned and walked out, leaving Jin standing in the middle of his kitchen at Jin Eatries, his hand cradled against his chest, his heart hammering, his entire world tilted off its axis.

He didn't know how long he stood there. The sound of the back door opening again barely registered.

"Well, well, well," a familiar, singsong voice cut through the fog in his brain. "What did we miss?"

Jin's head snapped up. Jimin and Yoongi stood just inside the doorway, shrugging off their jackets. Jimin's eyes were wide with gleeful curiosity, while Yoongi's were narrowed, taking in the scene with his usual sharp, knowing calm.

"Nothing," Jin croaked, quickly shoving his injured hand into his pocket. "He was just... leaving."

"Looked like more than just leaving," Jimin chirped, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "The air in here is all... crackly. And you're redder than a gochugaru pepper, hyung. What did the dragon do this time? Critique your mopping technique? Propose a merger?"

"Jimin," Yoongi said, his voice a low warning, but a smirk played on his lips.

"He didn't do anything!" Jin insisted, his voice too high, too defensive. He turned his back to them, busying himself with a perfectly clean pot. "He just... talks. You know how he talks. It's annoying."

"Mmhmm," Jimin hummed, unconvinced. He drifted closer, leaning against the counter next to Jin. "So all that 'agitated' and 'irrational' and 'permission' stuff we heard was just... talk?"

Jin froze. They'd heard. Of course they'd heard.

"And the part where he said he finds you 'fascinating'?" Jimin added, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "That was just corporate small talk, I assume?"